


Bondage 275

by KabochaKitsune



Category: One Piece
Genre: Anal Fingering, Ass to Mouth, BDSM, Bad Dirty Talk, Blindfolds, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Clothed Sex, Comeplay, Coming In Pants, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Violence, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Fight Sex, Fingers in Mouth, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Grinding, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Insults, Japanese Rope Bondage, Jock Straps, M/M, Martial Arts, Masochism, Name-Calling, Rape Roleplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rope Bondage, Sadism, Sexual Violence, Shibari, Shounen, Slut Shaming, Teasing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Verbal Humiliation, Victim Blaming, Violent Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 20:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KabochaKitsune/pseuds/KabochaKitsune
Summary: "You'd better actually fight me with everything you've got.""What if I win?""Don't worry about that, Marimo~"





	Bondage 275

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bondage - Part 1](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/419888) by blackwolf275. 



> MIND THE TAGS. DID I USE ENOUGH TAGS? IDK.
> 
> tl;dr This isn't rape this is rape play but use your discretion protect yourself etc. I tried to tag enough but if roleplayed/consensual "I know you want it" is going to trigger you please backbutton, I'm not here to blindside anyone.
> 
> Inspired by a 3-part work by [blackwolf275 on FurAffinity](http://www.furaffinity.net/user/blackwolf275/). Piece numero uno for chapter 1 is linked above (you must be logged in to view). Two more chapters coming for two more pictures~
> 
> I don't know how this morphed from bondage straight to rape play within the first ten minutes of writing except that shounens.
> 
> ENJOY?

"I want you to fight me down and fuck me until I collapse."

Those had been the words whispered into Sanji's ear, just after dinner tonight, when Sanji was elbows-deep in soapy water and could do nothing to respond or retaliate other than turn red and snarl over his shoulder not to say things like that where the others might hear. Now, he paced a slow circle, hard-soled shoes clicking gently on metal, hands in his pockets and a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"You'd better actually fight me with everything you've got," he'd hissed later, when he'd cornered Zoro outside the bathroom and cupped a hand between his legs before slipping smoothly outside for a smoke. The swordsman had never quite gotten down to flaccid since, and his jock strap was the only thing keeping him from tenting his pants (yet) as he matched that circle, kept the cook opposite him. His own boots weren't nearly as loud, and with his swords hung on the wall, he wasn't nearly so nonchalant in his stance, one shoulder back, hands raised to the level of his collar bones.

"What if I win?" The swordsman had asked on his way to the crow's nest, passing by the blond outside the galley.

His hands felt uncomfortably empty, but at least the wrappings on them gave him a little assurance he wouldn't end up breaking his fists on Sanji's kicks.

The cook had just laughed and taken another drag from his smoke. "Don't worry about that, Marimo~"

The slight shift in the steady clicks across the weight room floor was the only warning before Sanji moved like lightning, closing the distance and whipping a side strike for Zoro's head without ever removing his hands from his pockets. Zoro blocked his shin with a forearm, made a punch for his kneecap that Sanji neatly avoided by flipping that leg back over his own head, pitching himself into an effortless backflip, still with those hands tucked away.

Damn him for making this look as uneven as it was.

Zoro took the next move, coming in for a series of quick punches. Sanji simply leaned to the side away from the one aimed at his face, arched his back so that the one headed for his sternum didn't _quite_ reach, and then rotated his weight and his torso around the one headed for the juncture of his shoulder and collar bone, bringing a knee up towards Zoro's solar plexus. Zoro just got a hand up in time, gripping that knee and using the coil in his arm muscles to push back against the strike and jump back instead of having his lungs caved in.

Fuck, he'd really let his hand-to-hand speed go neglected.

"I thought I told you to give me everything you've got."

The next kick was a whirl overhead, and while Zoro dodged that one with a ducking sidestep, the quick twist of Sanji's hips brought the other one around right behind it as he spun a full circle around the axis of his spine. Zoro had to lean far enough back away from that one that he pulled a back-handspring to keep from just cracking his head on the floor, whipping his boot up for Sanji's face on the follow-through and whiffing spectacularly.

"You think I'm not?"

He dove in hard, the speed whipping the arms of his half-off coat out from the waist behind him, using the motion of a side-slash from his swords - but from a much closer distance, his leading elbow and following fist providing the force of the blows instead. Sanji dropped nearly flat to the floor under both, finally removing his hands from his pockets to brace them as a fulcrum under his chest, and whipped out a leg from the hip; Zoro managed a rolling somersault over Sanji's body and across the space in the most infinitesimal of ways, feeling his right leg throb from the contact it _had_ gotten before he'd made it out of the way. His ankle faltered a little when he got his feet back under him, but it was minor enough to ignore with a slight weight shift for now. Sanji just lifted a hand to his cigarette as he stood up, took a deep drag, and blew the smoke lazily into the air. Deliberately, rudely, tapped the ash off onto the clean floor instead of into the porcelain tray half a meter from his elbow.

"Nope."

Zoro's lip curled, something between a snarl and sneer; when he went in this time, he kept his strikes high, theoretically hard to block with a leg: two punches at, then above, the collar; a forward elbow for the jaw; a snap-kick just above the groin followed with a pair of side-kicks for the chest and then throat, all with the same leg, that traveled him forward skillfully on the shifting root of his other foot. To his absolute shock, Sanji turned the punches with his _forearms_ \- did not block, but brought his arms in and up from the center of his chest, turning Zoro's fists to whiff on both sides of his skull with what seemed a feather-light touch, putting Zoro in mind of that first meeting with Mihawk and the easy tilt of the sword that had deflected fucking bullets. It would have been insane to do against Zoro's blades, but against his arms Sanji's were clearly in no danger. The elbow he dodged with a turn of his cheek, and Zoro felt body heat but not friction against his skin; the kicks he first swiveled a hip away from, then arched his back like a cat and took a half-step back -

\- And then whipped his forward leg up in a circle perpendicular between them both, rolling it from the inside of his hip toward the outside; caught Zoro's ankle on his own, slamming Zoro's foot to the floor with the completion of the circle and then bringing his back leg up in a snap kick that _could_ have easily shattered Zoro's entire knee. Instead he caught the glossy toe of that shoe behind the joint, flipping Zoro's leg up from under him and sending the unarmed swordsman slamming onto his back from a simple unbalancing of his own weight. Zoro gagged on a cough, but managed to roll out of the way of the heel that slammed down toward his gut, echoing the entire space with a sharp _clang_ from the reverb through the metal floor. Zoro clicked his tongue, wiping spit from his lip with the back of his fist as he regained his feet.

"You're not exactly coming at me full-force."

Sanji raised at least his one visible curled brow, straightened, and tucked his hands back into his pockets, letting his cigarette tip the cherry up toward the ceiling as he shifted his jaw a little before responding.

"You want it too much for me to bother."

The _khh!_ in the back of Zoro's throat was automatic, his own brow furrowing enough for the roots of a few short green hairs to poke down under the brim of his bandana. But the more obvious color change was the brilliant red that lit up the tips of his ears.

"Fuck you."

"Ah-ah." Sanji pulled the cigarette from his mouth, tapped the ash disdainfully onto the floor once again; gestured Zoro's way with it loose between his fingers as though dismissing some nameless fuck in some nameless fight in the restaurant back in the East Blue. "Other way around, remember?"

Zoro's teeth gritted hard as steel flashed in his eye and pink flashed across his cheeks, and his hands twitched with the very real temptation to grab his fucking swords off the fucking wall regardless of how they'd planned this to go. Instead he stepped in forward and low, feinting a punch for the stomach that Sanji dipped back from, then dropping one taped hand to the floor and mimicking one of Sanji's moves: spinning the full weight of his torso but ending that momentum with a straight kick for the jaw instead of a roundhouse. It wasn't remotely as fluid or fast as Sanji's but had more pure weight behind it; the cook blocked it easily with his shin but was sent stepping - not _quite_ stumbling, damn him - back a couple meters. All with his fucking hands back in his pockets. The heat in Zoro's face only seemed to increase with his fury - but not just fury, which apparently was plainly obvious, and god _dammit_ how he hated that. (If not nearly, nearly as much as he probably should have.) "Pervert cook."

Sanji snorted. "Pervert? Me?" Suddenly he was in Zoro's space like he'd fucking flash-stepped, too-dark blue eyes boring into one hazel eye and his face so close Zoro almost flinched his chin away from the heat of that cigarette's cherry.

"I'm not the one so hard in my pants to get raped in my own goddamn territory that I can't even land a punch."

Zoro's entire face flooded red from bandana to throat, and his traitor cock confirmed those words by twitching hard enough in his pants to drag the head against his jock strap. "Fuck you." The snap was immediate, heated, _humiliated_ \- but fuck if Sanji didn't get it in one. "Don't you fucking dare." The words came easily - too easily. This was exactly how he wanted to play it. How he'd wanted to play it from the beginning, what he _really_ meant by _fight me down_. He hadn't had the balls to ask for it, not even after all the other shit they'd done together, but god, Sanji'd read him like a book.

And he knew it, if the smile that gleamed in those too-close blue eyes was anything to go by.

Zoro snapped out of the frozen trance the other's proximity had put him in when he sensed the knee speeding towards his abdomen, blocked it with an instinctive forearm and stumbled back with his bones throbbing from elbow to knuckles. With distance, he could see that smile smoothed across the cook's lips as clearly as he had watched it curl into those eyes.

"Don't give me that. I know you want it."

God, he did. And he wanted Sanji to keep talking like that, too.

He didn't have anything to say in his defense, not even in lying bullshit to keep up the act. Couldn't think of anything past the vision of that smirk, how goddamn _hot_ this bastard looked when he let himself be predatory. Fuck, he really wasn't bringing his whole fight to the table at all.

Hell, he was bringing less of it now, going full defensive and dodging more than blocking, shoulders tense, hips angling away from every spin-kick and heel-drop as Sanji backed him around the room, telegraphing a desire for distance as hard as he could, a reluctance to get too close now that the words were spoken. Not an aura of fear, but a sense of being deeply disturbed, unsettled, by those declarations. Sanji just grinned around his shrinking cigarette, eyes too lidded, a look that _actually_ made Zoro shudder.

Even that small an amount of involuntary action was too much a drop in his guard at this point. Sanji kicked off the floor and into an overhead spin, heel driving for Zoro's skull. There was no way to block that with two arms instead of three swords if he didn't want at least four broken bones, so Zoro threw his whole weight backwards, risking the moment's loss of root and balance. But that leg bent; Sanji pulled the kick, tucked his heel, and landed his palm on Zoro's forehead instead, with exactly the right speed and force to both drag the bandana down over his eyes and send him crashing down with all of his own momentum plus all of Sanji's into the bench built into the side of the room.

Zoro's lungs spasmed, choking an ugly noise in his throat, when the edge of the bench slammed into his back just under his shoulder blades; that fraction of a second was all it took for strong, dexterous hands to close around his wrists and twist them back behind him hard enough to slam his chest into the floor. Zoro swore the shoe that dug into his back next probably weighed more than the entire rest of the cook; he gagged up another strangled noise as his arms were pulled up and back far enough he thought both his shoulders would pop out of the sockets. _That_ caused its own involuntary jerk of muscles, giving Sanji an opening to force his arms across his back, shift his foot to stand on them instead; to cinch loops of cord he'd been hiding god-knows-where in that fucking suit jacket around both wrists and start looping ends around both forearms before Zoro could start to thrash.

Not that thrashing did him any good. Sanji just bore down harder on him with that foot, and god, he swore he _heard_ his bones start to creak; when he arched with the pain, throwing his head back and snarling noises without words through his teeth, that just left him open for the second thing tonight to make him freeze.

Two loops of that cord, around his throat, one right under his jaw and one just below his Adam's apple, which tightened to exactly too much to breathe and then, infinitely slowly, cinched in further as Sanji's hands behind him pulled the lines between his throat and arms tighter, millimeter by millimeter. One of his shoulders jerked, and the lines tightened faster once, a quick yank.

"Here's how this is going to go. Either you be a good boy and sit still, or I break both your arms, choke you out, and use that tight little hole of yours while you're unconscious so you can't even enjoy it."

A muscle in Zoro's arm twitched. (So did his cock.) Nothing else moved.

The lines let out and Zoro crashed back down to a sprawl, sucking in lungfuls of air, cheek mashed against the cold metal of the floor.

"That's what I thought."

Zoro's nose wrinkled and his teeth grit, making each breath a hiss, as Sanji's hands moved over him, adjusting the cords around his neck, winding them around his upper arms, down under his chest (thumbs brushed too-deliberately over his nipples and he jerked once, stilled when that foot crushed down on his arms again). He probably made a very pretty fucking picture by the time Sanji moved his foot, tied the ends off at his wrists. Zoro just crushed his forehead down against the floor and tried to breathe.

Right until a hand just forced itself unceremoniously between his legs, cupping his junk through his pants and jock strap, and he jerked without punishment this time, trying to escape that grip even while his cock throbbed and flooded his clothing and a too-high sound found its way unbidden from his mouth.

"Mmm... See? You can't hide this from me."

The cold floor only made the heat in his face that much more fucking apparent. Fucking shit, Sanji had no right to sound this _good_ like this. "Get off me!" It was meant as a snarl, but pinched in his throat too tightly to mean much. The responding laugh was a snicker.

"No no. You got the order wrong." Quicker than a fucking breath, Zoro's pants were open and halfway down his thighs, and two fingers the blond bastard had already found the time to lube up forced their way into his ass. The cook continued over a grunt and shudder of purported protest. "I'm gonna _get you off_."

Shit shit shit shit _shit_. Holy shit, Zoro felt too-hot against the metal all the way down to his fucking navel, and right now he really wasn't sure if this was abruptly too much or exactly right. "You-! _Nnh!!_ " Words failed him when those fingers started to twist.

"There you go, baby." Sanji sounded like a bad porn mag. The way Zoro's cock was staining the lining of his coat betrayed that being in any way a bad thing. "There you go..."

The second time, those long fingers curled down, finding Zoro's prostate with long-practiced expertise and pulling half a scream and an entire full-bodied _thrash_ out of the swordsman.

"Aah! You cheap son of a-!"

This time? That cut off was from two wet fingers stuffed into his mouth, pressing on his tongue. "Easy, tiger." His ass was empty and he recognized his own taste rubbing on the inside of his mouth; felt the knot of the bastard's tie on his neck and the fibers of his suit jacket too heavy and hot on his back. Zoro tried to turn his head away, tried to pull back, but that hand followed him, leashing him by the tongue, until he finally obeyed the soft _shh... shhh..._ repeating in his ear and let himself still under Sanji's grip and weight.

"You're too loud for this early in the game, I think." Zoro scrunched his eye shut when his bandana was finally pulled off his head like he'd been blackbagged, the lights of the room stinging his vision. The fingers slid out of his mouth and down his tongue like a fucking caress, and it was everything he could do to keep enough control of himself to just turn his head away and gasp, keep up some semblance of the game, instead of sucking on them as they left like he'd sucked on another long, firm part of Sanji's body so many times. He could hear the rustle of fabric in his periphery over the hollow sound of his own breath sucking into his mouth, knew the sound of his bandana being folded back into a strip, and had to feign surprise and struggle when it was used to muffle his mouth, tied too-tight behind his head, which for fuck's sake was _already_ spinning enough.

_For fuck's sake, you son of a bitch, just fuck me already._

The next surprise, though, he didn't have to feign: instead of pulling his hips up, moving the coat around his waist out of the way, or whatever, Sanji's hands descended on the legs of his pants, yanking on the blouses of them at the calf until they pulled roughly out of the tops of his boots, scraping his skin. He turned his head to check over his shoulder with his good eye, wondering what the fuck? - And found out he could blush hotter after all, watching Sanji work the legs of his pants down over his boots, wiggle the ankles over the heels, all while looking at his work like he'd usually look at the fucking meals he prepared in the galley. _Fuck._

The last of his pants came off with an absolutely ridiculous flourish, a fucking _whooshing_ sound through the air as Sanji pulled the waist off over the toes and threw them to one side with a grace that suggested he'd yanked the tablecloth from under a full spread of place settings just to show off. Fucking - shit, fuck, somehow Zoro felt even more exposed and ridiculous like this than he did naked, which he guessed was probably the point. Sanji glanced up, now that his work at Zoro's legs was done, and met his flustered expression with a warm, toothy, foxlike one of his own, dark and hungry, and Zoro jerked his head back around, squinting his good eye shut and just trying to breathe.

"Aren't you cute like this~?" Zoro flinched, grunted a dark noise through his nose, and Sanji just chuckled, running his hands up Zoro's thighs under his coat. Up over his ass, one thumb dragging through the split and making the swordsman jerk, up to fiddle with something Zoro couldn't discern under the tied waist of his coat and sash, dexterous fingers tickling over the small of his back... then across his inner thighs. Zoro huffed, toes digging against the floor as he shoved himself awkwardly forward on his chest, some parody of an effort to escape. Sanji snorted. "You're not very convincing, Marimo." The fingers trailed from his inner thighs to outer, tracing some invisible line... and then Zoro remembered his jock strap, realized it hadn't been pulled off with his pants, because Sanji made just as much of a fucking show of getting that off of him next, the elastic snapping back loudly as the straps slid down over the toes of his boots. _Didn't fucking bother undoing them like a normal person..._

Not that Sanji gave him more than that one moment to grumble to himself before dangling the undergarment in front of his face, the inside facing toward him, where he could clearly see the thick mess of white-drying-clear precum smeared all over the fabric. His shoulders tensed.

"My, my. Do you always get this wet when someone threatens to violate you?"

Zoro turned his head violently away, scrunching his eye shut again and saying nothing. The blond's knowing laugh was entirely too fucking attractive. So was the way he dug his nails into Zoro's arm when he gripped him to throw him over, roll him onto his back, tied up and gagged and feeling like a piece of meat and oh, fuck, obviously and desperately tenting the front of his fucking coat. Zoro wasn't sure whether the blond made a show of running his tongue over his lips, or if he really was that interested in the new view. (Fuck his traitor dick for twitching at the thought.)

The next grab at him was for both his legs again, cupping hands behind knees and shoving Zoro's thighs up and apart. Zoro strangled a noise of protest somewhere between the back of his throat and the muffle of his bandana, but Sanji ignored him as though he hadn't even heard it, scooting forward on his knees and parting them around Zoro's ass, easing himself closer until he could grind his own very, very firm bulge directly against the teased wet pucker between long tan legs. Zoro flinched, thrashing his head back and forth and flexing his legs, trying to shove himself away, but skilled fingers snapped forward to catch in the cords wrapped over his chest and yank him upward. His heels hit the floor again behind Sanji's spread thighs, and he found himself about three centimeters short of actively sitting in the blond's lap. One too-pretty blue eye bored into his.

"Don't be shy, Marimo~"

Zoro growled behind the gag, wrinkling his nose. He dug in his heels, tried to lean back, to push away again, but this time Sanji's fingers found a spot just behind his shoulder where a quick tug of those cords closed down the line across his throat, and he stilled.

"Now, now. We can't have that."

It took about two seconds for Zoro to figure out what Sanji had been fiddling with under his coat: one for his eye to bug when another brush below the rear waist of it suddenly clamped down vices across his upper thighs; one to growl in slight pain and broad fury when he realized another two loops of those fucking cords were now holding his legs bent up toward his chest.

He tried to growl a _fuck you_ between his teeth but lost every consonant in the folds of the bandana. Sanji seemed to get the message, though, and just grinned that fox's grin at him.

"Shh, shh. It's alright, Marimo. That was the last preparation." The hand drifted out from under the coat, caressed its way up Zoro's back to cup the back of his ribcage. The other dropped without pretense, without looking, to grip Zoro's erection through the fabric of his coat. The swordsman arched back, wrinkling his brow over his shut-tight eye and blowing out a rough noise through his nose.

"Now you're nice and helpless while I fuck your limited brains out."

_Fuck._

Zoro growled low in his chest, arching forward again as Sanji's hand started to jerk, immediately too rough and fast, more painful than pleasurable with the friction of the thick fabric of his coat. His hips twisted, which only served to rub his ass on the bulge in Sanji's slacks again; threw a glare at the other from under a furrowed brow as he turned his shoulders instead, trying fruitlessly to pull away. Sanji's tongue trailed over his lips again, kept up that speed for several more agonizing seconds before slowing down. Slowing down _too much_ , from painful to _languid_ , easy pulls that didn't take long at all to extract desperate panting instead of furious growling from flared nostrils.

"Did you think I was going to be that nice? Really?"

A shudder dripped down Zoro's spine, but all he could do was glare.

"Hehe. You really are so cute. I know you want it, baby, just relax... I'll make you love it... eventually."

That hand tightened far too much, practically yanking once instead of stroking, and the sound that choked in the back of Zoro's throat this time was a full-on yelp. The next moment returned to that slow, too-gentle tease, and Sanji leaned in to whisper hot breath across one burning ear.

"I'm gonna _make you_ love it."

Zoro shivered and let his forehead drop onto Sanji's shoulder. The resulting chuckle seemed to come from all around him.

"That's right, Marimo. Accept it." The cook nuzzled a cheek into green hair, sweet and gentle. Turned so that his next words blew straight into the tunnel of Zoro's ear. "I beat you."

The swordsman bristled, shoulders tense. He could feel the cook's mouth twisted into a grin when it bit at the cartilage of his ear. The hand on him sped up slightly.

"Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro... tied up and gagged and whimpering in the lap of... what do you call me? A third-rate cook?"

 _I'm not whimpering, you bastard_ mashed through the bandana with most of its consonants sounding like _mmh_ and most of its vowels blowing uselessly though his nose.

"Mmhmm. A third-rate _pirate_ cook, no less. Look at you." Sanji thumbed deliberately under the head of Zoro's cock through the thick fabric, and Zoro barely held back every possible noise. "No, really... look at yourself."

A hand in green hair pulled Zoro back off Sanji's shoulder; he hissed a breath in through his nose and glowered, but, reluctantly, after a long glare into that too-calm blue gaze, he glanced down between them.

Fucking _shit_.

He was so _wet_ , leaking so fucking much, that the fabric had soaked straight through. That, he'd been able to feel (tried to ignore), wrapped almost too-tight down over his head. What he hadn't been able to feel from the inside was that it was _so_ soaked that his pre was leaking straight through with basically no resistance, thick drips rolling down the outside of the fabric, between pale, skillful fingers. Holy shit. Holy shit, the picture of it was _obscene_ , and he throbbed in Sanji's hand, cheeks burning. Tried to turn his head away, but the fist tightened in his hair.

"No you don't. Keep looking, baby. Keep your eye on your fucking cock or I swear I will make you regret it."

Something tensed in the back of Zoro's neck, and he considered fighting, but shit... he looked so _good_ like this, such a fucking _mess_... He squeezed his eye shut for just a moment, swallowed thickly, and then opened it again to watch himself.

"That's right."

Sanji's hand sped up again, the pads of his long fingers squeezing the ridge and folds around Zoro's head even through all that thick fabric between strokes, and Zoro's hips twisted again, not in an attempted escape but a _squirm_ , and he wasn't sure if he didn't care that he was wriggling against Sanji's cock or if he fucking wanted the blond to feel him like this. _See_ him like this.

"Nnh... that's it, Marimo."

Fucking fuck why was that stupid nickname so hot like this?

"Don't be shy... let me see you love it. Let me _feel_ you love it."

That wonderful, evil fucking hand gave a good, firm squeeze, speeding up again to the pace they both knew was _perfect_ , the speed that drove Zoro fucking insane, almost too-fast but just slow enough for a good extra squeeze of the head between thumb and forefinger on every upstroke, and holy shit, holy shit he was already (already??) panting, watching pre bead up and gush through fabric and dribble down his coat; his hips were rocking and he could feel Sanji throbbing dully against his taint, see him twitch through pants that must have become too tight by now, hear a little rasp behind the slow, even breaths rushing past his ear, and at this point he didn't even care that his ass was aching and empty or that he was moaning through his nose because this fucking bastard was doing _everything_ right - !

"Mmmhhh!"

His head threw back, fist in his hair or not, a few hairs pulling out at the root as his chin tipped up and he didn't care, he didn't care, just rode the fact that he was fucking _melting_ in that hand and Sanji's teeth were digging into his ear and it didn't fucking matter how muffled his scream was as long as his hips could jerk and twitch right here on the weight room floor, right here in this third-rate cook's lap, making an absolute mess of himself and his coat and this bastard's unbelievable hand.

It was a long, half-coherent moment of rigid tension before he just collapsed, forehead falling back onto the cook's shoulder, only remotely upright because his position and the cords binding him wouldn't really allow for anything else. He didn't realize he was dizzy until the knot at the back of his head loosened and the bandana fell away, letting him breathe through his mouth, sucking in air and getting precious oxygen circulating in his fucking head again. Holy _shit_. Long fingers ruffled up the back of his head, and he turned his head to press a little deeper into the other's neck.

That was a longer moment.

And that was much more rudely interrupted, with a sudden squeeze at the head of his half-hard dick and a dark, ugly chuckle in his ear.

"You really are such a slut, aren't you?"

Zoro's whole body froze.

Oh god.

Oh god, did he have more of this in him?

"You loved that..."

Zoro took a long, slow breath. Let it out in a _shudder_.

...Fuck it.

"Go fuck yourself."

Sanji's laugh was dark and mirthful and an undercurrent of really, genuinely excited. Zoro grinned while the bastard couldn't see.

The breath rushed out of him in a rough _oof!_ when Sanji flipped him onto his back, wet coat front flipped up onto his stomach like flipping up a skirt, legs in the air and cock still throbbing - and flushed red, when he glanced down - and he thought he was going to fucking _die_ when the blond leaned over him and lapped a thick bead of cum off his thumb, slowly, so Zoro could watch.

"Don't worry, baby. We're not done yet."

**Author's Note:**

> Want to support what I do? Buy me a [Ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/kabochakitsune) or find me on other sites through my [carrd](https://kabochakitsune.carrd.co/)!
> 
> P.S. I've been writing for most of the last 7 hours straight, I'm sorry if something blatantly makes no sense.


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